Sorry, about having all of this underlined...the computer here is making it impossible to fix. TIA...This Is Africa. 
Since returning from Rwanda, we've had a very busy schedule...primarily church visitations. The routine: get up at 6am, do sermon preparation, having breakfast with the bishop, jump in the Land Rover and drive out to a church, have a service, preach, sometimes there's a confirmation, have lunch prepared by women in the church, drink lots of coke, listen to the pastors and church leaders give a presentation on what the church is doing and it's needs, drive back home in the late afternoon, take a nap, go for a walk, shower, watch Al Jazera and the Catholic satellite stations, having dinner at 9pm, and go to bed shortly there after. Get up and do the same thing again the next day. It's somewhat exhausting, but very rich and very interesting to meet so many people and have so many experiences.
I was invited to teach at the Bible School at the diocese and give a two part lecture on Church history. I loved it and enjoyed the questions that came out as a result, 'Where was the Anglican church during the Roman Empire?', 'Why did the Western church, help the Eastern church in the crusades when they just divided 30 years before?'. I really enjoyed working with these very eager students. It was their very first exposure to church history and they were fascinated.
On Saturday we had a long day of visiting 4 churches. The first three churches, were alongside the main road and the bishop had be drive us. That was fun to be driving again in Africa (british style). Then the last church the bishop had never been too and didn't know quite where it was. 'It is a walk from here. Kind of over by that tree that you can barely see...' So we started hiking away.
The small dirt path led us through jungle terrain where we had to jump a stream where locals were washing clothes, then out through beautiful rolling hills with tall grass. We were high on a bluff overlooking the indigo lake. We walked and walked and finally someone said, 'down there, at that village'. Far down below us we could make out a small village nestled up against the steep hillsides in a little cove. We tromped down the steep slope and as we approached the village we began to hear singing and a small procession, that looked like ants, began to crawl up the hill toward us. The bishop was doing a confirmation there, and the whole village was in an uproar. It was the biggest thing happening that month. We entered the village like conquering heroes and proceeded into a little shack on the beach made of drift wood and tarps. The bishop changed into his vestments and we processesed into a makeshift church constructed with sheets, and sticks. It was like a fort that children would construct. The bishop conducted the confirmation, 36 children in all, and then I preached. Pretty much everyone in the village was there: the Roman Catholics, a few Muslims, the Lutherans, and a few curious onlookers.
After the long long service, we had lunch and I asked if someone would take Kelly and I out on a boat in the Lake. Someone agreed and before we knew it we were precariously pushing off in a dug out canoe with a couple of locals somewhat amused at our delight.
We arrived in Bukoba that night, and I preached at the largest church in the diocese the next day. They had the best looking church, nice colored windows, concrete floor, a very loud sound system, two energetic choirs that took turns singing and dancing in matching outfits. The pastor told me the congregation wanted me to preach for 45 minutes. I didn't know how I'd do it. So far I've been averaging about 25 minutes...with a translator. So got up and felt like I was rambling for 45 minutes...the congregation seemed to love it. The pastor and bishop were so pleased they announced in front of the church that I was invited to be ordained in their diocese when I was finished with school. This was a complement, but also disappointing...I felt they cared more about long winded stories and a dramatic presentation, then a well thought out and carefully delivered sermon. There's seems to be a bit of a disparities of values. Oh, well...that's Africa.
We're resting today and leaving for Kampala tomorrow. We're all (the bishop, his wife, his son, Kelly, and I) staying in a nice hotel with a great view of the lake...sitting high on a hill above Bukoba. It has a nice swimming pool and satellite TV, and a nice selection of Indian food on the menu. Kelly and I have been really enjoying Fadihili, the bishop's son who has been translating for me wherever we go, and we decided to sponsor him to come with us to Kampala for a night. Then I will travel on by bus to Kisumu, Kenya...Kelly returns to the States...and Fadihili will return to Bukoba.
I greatly look forward returning to Kenya for the last leg of my trip and seeing all my kids, the orphans I worked with last year, and seeing my old church where I became an Anglican. I'll write again from Kenya.
Since returning from Rwanda, we've had a very busy schedule...primarily church visitations. The routine: get up at 6am, do sermon preparation, having breakfast with the bishop, jump in the Land Rover and drive out to a church, have a service, preach, sometimes there's a confirmation, have lunch prepared by women in the church, drink lots of coke, listen to the pastors and church leaders give a presentation on what the church is doing and it's needs, drive back home in the late afternoon, take a nap, go for a walk, shower, watch Al Jazera and the Catholic satellite stations, having dinner at 9pm, and go to bed shortly there after. Get up and do the same thing again the next day. It's somewhat exhausting, but very rich and very interesting to meet so many people and have so many experiences.
I was invited to teach at the Bible School at the diocese and give a two part lecture on Church history. I loved it and enjoyed the questions that came out as a result, 'Where was the Anglican church during the Roman Empire?', 'Why did the Western church, help the Eastern church in the crusades when they just divided 30 years before?'. I really enjoyed working with these very eager students. It was their very first exposure to church history and they were fascinated.
On Saturday we had a long day of visiting 4 churches. The first three churches, were alongside the main road and the bishop had be drive us. That was fun to be driving again in Africa (british style). Then the last church the bishop had never been too and didn't know quite where it was. 'It is a walk from here. Kind of over by that tree that you can barely see...' So we started hiking away.
The small dirt path led us through jungle terrain where we had to jump a stream where locals were washing clothes, then out through beautiful rolling hills with tall grass. We were high on a bluff overlooking the indigo lake. We walked and walked and finally someone said, 'down there, at that village'. Far down below us we could make out a small village nestled up against the steep hillsides in a little cove. We tromped down the steep slope and as we approached the village we began to hear singing and a small procession, that looked like ants, began to crawl up the hill toward us. The bishop was doing a confirmation there, and the whole village was in an uproar. It was the biggest thing happening that month. We entered the village like conquering heroes and proceeded into a little shack on the beach made of drift wood and tarps. The bishop changed into his vestments and we processesed into a makeshift church constructed with sheets, and sticks. It was like a fort that children would construct. The bishop conducted the confirmation, 36 children in all, and then I preached. Pretty much everyone in the village was there: the Roman Catholics, a few Muslims, the Lutherans, and a few curious onlookers.
After the long long service, we had lunch and I asked if someone would take Kelly and I out on a boat in the Lake. Someone agreed and before we knew it we were precariously pushing off in a dug out canoe with a couple of locals somewhat amused at our delight.
We arrived in Bukoba that night, and I preached at the largest church in the diocese the next day. They had the best looking church, nice colored windows, concrete floor, a very loud sound system, two energetic choirs that took turns singing and dancing in matching outfits. The pastor told me the congregation wanted me to preach for 45 minutes. I didn't know how I'd do it. So far I've been averaging about 25 minutes...with a translator. So got up and felt like I was rambling for 45 minutes...the congregation seemed to love it. The pastor and bishop were so pleased they announced in front of the church that I was invited to be ordained in their diocese when I was finished with school. This was a complement, but also disappointing...I felt they cared more about long winded stories and a dramatic presentation, then a well thought out and carefully delivered sermon. There's seems to be a bit of a disparities of values. Oh, well...that's Africa.
We're resting today and leaving for Kampala tomorrow. We're all (the bishop, his wife, his son, Kelly, and I) staying in a nice hotel with a great view of the lake...sitting high on a hill above Bukoba. It has a nice swimming pool and satellite TV, and a nice selection of Indian food on the menu. Kelly and I have been really enjoying Fadihili, the bishop's son who has been translating for me wherever we go, and we decided to sponsor him to come with us to Kampala for a night. Then I will travel on by bus to Kisumu, Kenya...Kelly returns to the States...and Fadihili will return to Bukoba.
I greatly look forward returning to Kenya for the last leg of my trip and seeing all my kids, the orphans I worked with last year, and seeing my old church where I became an Anglican. I'll write again from Kenya.
1 comment:
One incredible experience after another! When you get home, I'm going to buy you some new ties.
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